


The Ones You Love

by HotAndColdAF



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Gen, Headcanon, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 11:38:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18051815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HotAndColdAF/pseuds/HotAndColdAF
Summary: A pair of old friends take the time to catch up and reminisce before the Atlas's launch.





	The Ones You Love

"I thought I might find you here."

Shiro pulled his hand back from the memorial wall and looked over his shoulder at the man standing behind him. He'd recognized the voice as belonging to his former (and now current again) teammate, but it was a surprise that anyone would come looking for him right now.

"Curtis? What are you doing here?"

Curtis tilted his head to the side with a dubious expression. "The same thing you are. I don't have anywhere better to be."

Shiro frowned at that as he turned to face Curtis more fully. It implied some things he didn't like. "Friends? Family?" His orders, such as they were, had been pretty clear.

"I haven't had any luck finding my family yet. As for friends..." Curtis gestured as the wall behind Shiro. "I had all the same ones you did."

Shiro'd known about the latter half of that, but he'd still hoped that it wasn't the case, that Curtis had had other people he could turn to, people beside their old classmates and coworkers. This position wasn't something he'd wish on anyone, and Curtis was a good guy, he deserved better. They'd all deserved better. His gaze turned back towards the wall, and any random spot he could look to seemed to hold a name he recognized, a face he'd spent his youth with. Every pilot from their graduating class was on that wall, except for him. Most of the engineers. A fair chunk of the communications officers. He could count the survivors on just two hands, and that was including the two of them in this room.

"It's funny," he said, even though it wasn't remotely so. "I'd already accepted that I wouldn't see any of them again, but that's because I figured I wouldn't make it back. I never thought I'd come home just to find _this._ "

"That's not funny at all," Curtis murmured, but he left it at that, and a silence fell over them. It was Shiro who broke it, his hand moving over a particular plaque.

"What happened to Grazyna?" he asked. Grazyna had been their engineer, the final member of their three-person unit. She'd always been so cunning and forceful, larger than life despite Shiro and Curtis easily towering over her. It was hard to reconcile the woman he remembered with this small, serious portrait that was all that remained.

"A supply raid went south," Curtis answered quietly. "It's the same story for most of these, except the pilots. I suppose... somebody's already told you about Adam?"

"Yeah." Shiro glanced back towards the plaque with Adam's name and face on it, even though the actual sight of it barely registered at this point. "He fell in the initial attack."

"He was the last one to go down, if that helps any."

"I--I don't know if it does or not." It was good, he supposed, that Adam had been good enough to last as long as he did. He should be proud, probably? But mostly he just wished Adam hadn't gone down at all, that he was still here. Even if he didn't want to take him back, even if he never forgave him for leaving, it would be worth it if he was just still _alive_.

"Did he ever move on?" he asked abruptly.

"Move on from _you_?" Curtis immediately asked back. Shiro turned back to look at him, eyebrows raised. What was _that_ supposed to mean?

"Who else would I be talking about?" he asked.

Curtis glanced awkwardly to the side. "Nobody, I just, uh. Nevermind. I never heard about him finding someone new. I don't think he did." This, too, Shiro wasn't sure how to feel about. He didn't _want_ to be replaced, but he didn't like the idea of Adam spending his last few years lonely, either.

Almost as though he could read his mind, Curtis continued. "We did what we could to cheer him up, after the Kerberos mission. He was pretty upset about it. We all were. It was hard to believe you could really be gone."

"I _wasn't_ really gone," Shiro pointed out. "You were on ground control on the Kerberos mission, you should've known that."

Curtis looked at him a bit like he'd grown a second head. "I knew you didn't _crash_. But whatever happened to you, it was out of view of the ship's cameras. All we had to go on was the recorded radio chatter." He closed his eyes as he recited, "'What is that, seismic activity?' 'We should get back to the ship.' 'What is that? It can't be!' 'Run, come on, run!' And then screaming, and then... nothing."

Shiro's stomach tensed, and not from the pain of remembering that awful moment when his life as he'd known it came to a sudden and unpredictable end. He'd never really considered exactly what information made it back to the Garrison. He'd never thought about how it would've affected those left behind, not beyond a few passing thoughts spared for Adam or his family. To hear Curtis talking about it now, in this way.... He swallowed hard before he replied.

"You... listened to that a lot, huh?"

Curtis nodded and then stepped forward to look at the wall, crossing his arms across his chest in the process. "I went through all the video footage a lot, too, just in case. I felt like... if I could just figure out what happened, maybe I could sleep at night again."

Shiro stared in a stunned silence at Curtis, completely at a loss for how to respond to that. It really shouldn't have surprised him to hear about this. Curtis had always been thorough and compassionate both. Of course it would bother him that much to have people disappear on a mission like that without any answers. Just like it bothered Shiro that there wasn't anything he could think to say to make up for it. Explain what had actually happened? Curtis already knew by now.

The silence stretched out between them until Curtis suddenly snapped out of his reverie, eyes wide, as though he'd only just now realized what it was he'd said. He quickly turned away from Shiro and rubbed at the back of his head. "Sorry," he said. "That was too heavy."

"No, it's okay," Shiro answered, cautiously moving his right arm to place its hand on Curtis's shoulder. "I'm glad you trust me enough to talk about it." And he meant that. He knew how difficult it was to talk about this sort of thing. He still usually avoided it himself. Whether sharing this meant that Curtis trusted him in particular or if it just meant he wasn't as reluctant to share his problems as Shiro was, either way, Shiro felt it was a good thing.

Curtis looked down at the hand on his shoulder, and then back at Shiro with an awkward smile. "Thanks. I'm glad you're alive. I'm glad you came back. I just wish you had something better to come back to than this."

Shiro nodded in silent understanding and returned his arm to his side. "What happened after I came back the first time? When I crashed that escape pod in the desert."

Curtis looked briefly surprised at the question, but after a moment of thought, he answered it. "More people knew about that, since it happened right here. They had engineers looking at that ship you crashed in, and a lot of people trying to figure out where you went after." He looked to the side awkwardly, like he wasn't quite sure if he should keep going before he hesitantly added, "...Grazyna punched me when she found out I'd been lying about what happened."

Shiro gawked. Grazyna had been a fairly aggressive person, but he'd never seen her actually get physically violent with anyone.

"She apologized before she... ended up here," Curtis added. That was... something, at least. There were a lot of things that weren't _good_ about all this, but they would have to do. This was the reality Shiro had to deal with. He needed to take what little scraps of comfort he could find.

"How did Adam take it?" he asked.

"He was a lot more understanding. Mostly he was just worried about you." Curtis took a step towards the wall and sighed. "He was a good person."

"He was," Shiro agreed. "He really was." He'd taken Adam for granted a lot, he could see that now. "I'm going to miss him a lot." He paused to let his gaze sweep over the wall, over the precisely ordered plaques that smothered everything unique about the people they represented. "I'll miss all of them."

"I will, too."

Shiro glanced over at Curtis staring morosely at the wall and then took a couple of steps backward. "Right. You came here to say goodbye. I'll leave you to it."

"Wait," Curtis called before he could get very far. "I've spent enough time here all by myself. If you don't have any other plans for today, the Big Bang just reopened. We could go get some drinks, like old times."

Shiro blinked at Curtis briefly and then smiled. "Not _too_ much like old times. We can't afford to be hungover for the launch tomorrow."

"Of course. We have to be a good example for the younger generation now," Curtis answered, with only the slightest, subtlest hint of wryness. "But I don't think one drink would hurt, right? It sounds like we could both use it."

"I could definitely use one. It's been a long time. Do you think they still serve Moonwalks?" Shiro turned back towards the door and Curtis rushed to catch up with him.

"Moonwalks?" he asked. "You're supposed to get one of those when you get back from space, not right before you leave."

Shiro shrugged. "It'll still be my first drink since I got back. I'd say that counts, wouldn't you?"

"If you say so," Curtis answered lightly.

Shiro lingered behind by a few steps as Curtis continued towards the exit. He turned to look back at the memorial one last time. It looked so somber and lifeless, so melancholy that it bordered on oppressive. Maybe he should've brought some flowers, but if he had, they would wither before he would have the chance to replace them, and that seemed even sadder. Maybe he would find something on his travels that would make a suitable offering. Or maybe it was for the best not to leave anything at all, to let the impersonality of it stand as testament to the enormity of what was lost.

For now he made do with a simple, solemn salute before continuing on his way. The future was waiting.


End file.
